The Legacy by Craig Lawrence

some time in its past. The impressively large wooden door was studded with metal bolts, reminding Lucy of the main gate to Durham Castle, now home to one of the university’s colleges. Like the Durham gate, it had a smaller Judas gate set within it. Lucy looked up at the building as she crossed the road towards the entrance. The windows were covered by intricately carved wooden screens. These provided privacy for the occupants whilst still allowing a breeze to cool the interior. The delicious smell of curry being prepared for lunch wafted out from the lower windows, reminding the girls that they hadn’t yet had breakfast.
    â€˜You ring,’ said Lucy pointing to the four buttons set in a panel on the wall next to the gate.
    â€˜OK,’ replied Isobel, pressing the intercom buzzer.
    Harry’s voice answered almost immediately. ‘Hi, come on in,’ he said as he released the catch remotely.
    The girls were surprised at the interior of the building. The main door opened into a vaulted archway that led to a small courtyard. In the centre of the courtyard was a fountain. Small trees and shrubs grew in the large and ornate pots that were arranged around it. Tables and chairs were grouped amongst the pots, providing quiet areas for people to talk, read or just enjoy the surroundings. The sound of water splashing gently in the fountain and the scents from the bushes created a calming atmosphere, providing a marked contrast to the noise and frantic activity outside.
    â€˜Hello,’ said Harry, appearing from between two large plants. He was dressed in jeans, t-shirt and espadrilles and looked as if he had just got out of the shower. ‘You made it,’ he said with a smile.
    â€˜This is amazing,’ said Isobel. ‘I really wouldn’t have expected to find this little oasis inside a block of flats.’
    Harry smiled again. ‘The building belongs to a friend. It’s been in his family for generations. It was originally built as a family home for one of the Rana ruling elite in the eighteen hundreds. My friend turned it into flats about ten years ago. He lives in one of them and rents the other three to disreputable characters like me.’ Lucy and Isobel both smiled at his self deprecating manner. ‘Follow me and I’ll show you where I live,’ he said as he set off across the courtyard to an ornate stairwell in one of the corners.
    â€˜I’m afraid there’s no lift,’ he said as he started up the stairs. He stopped on the third floor and walked along the open corridor that overlooked the courtyard. Above their heads, large fans turned slowly to keep the air moving. Lucy had seen similar buildings in Morocco. She liked the style. It was light and airy, with the courtyard adding to the building’s serenity.
    She noticed a fine net draped over the courtyard from the roofs of the top floor. ‘What’s that for?’ she asked Harry.
    â€˜It keeps the birds out, particularly the pigeons which, in the summer, are a nightmare!’ he replied. ‘Come in,’ he said, opening another large and ornately carved wooden door. The girls followed him into his flat. Again, they were surprised.
    â€˜I like your rugs,’ said Isobel, admiring the many rugs that covered the highly polished wooden floor.
    â€˜They’re from all over,’ said Harry. ‘The ones the Nepalese make are excellent but my favourite is the large one in front of the fire. I got that on my last tour in Afghanistan. It was a gift from a friend I worked with.’ The two girls followed his gaze. A comfortable looking sofa and two chairs were arranged around the rug, facing the fire. An avid reader, Lucy noticed the many bookshelves that lined the walls and went to investigate. Harry looked to have very wide interests. She expected the books about development and security but was surprised to find a whole shelf of books about artists and their work. The ones on